


“To achieve the impossible, it is precisely the unthinkable that must be thought.”

by notjustmom



Series: Tom Robbins Remix [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Post return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:02:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: I think ACD, Douglas Adams and Tom Robbins are cut from the same cloth.





	“To achieve the impossible, it is precisely the unthinkable that must be thought.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/gifts).



If someone had told him, back before, before - hell. Perhaps there was something, at some point in time - now, he wasn't even certain that time was, no, he was positive that time was, no, that wouldn't do, to question something as essential as time, and yet, time was invented by someone. Someone, in history decided - a guy, or a girl - no, not a girl, or, why not a girl, sure, a girl, we'll give her a name to keep from calling her 'the' girl - Hester? No - too serious - how about Gertie? Good - Gertie. Gertie decides one morning - wait - who named mornings? Who did that - why were mornings 'mornings' and not afternoons, who, precisely, was it - who was it that gave us language - it had to be at least two people, and maybe another to record what the first word was - and there had to be an editor. There is always an editor - and the first critic - yes, there is/was always a critic. It's a wonder we ever manage to make it out of bed, if thoughts like these are running around loosey-goosey, it's a good thing one was given the knowledge of how to breathe without thought, before tea - how did one even think before tea was invented?

John took a breath, then blew it out against the hot August air. After all the rain in July, he would have thought he'd had enough, but perhaps a nice rain shower could clear things up a bit. He shifted just enough to get unstuck from the sheets, and his first waking sensation, not thought, precisely, though it became a thought, he supposed, once he put words to it, was of Sherlock's long form draped over him. How easily he had become accustomed to him being there, after - after not being there - longer than they had known each other - see, there it is again, that whole question of time. 

It occurred to him then, perhaps for the first time, he considered with a snort of recognition, that he spent an enormous amount of time recording time. What was it he did? Yes, he had spent years training to be a doctor, and a soldier - but his, what, his calling? Sure, why not, his Calling, (why not a capital C?) was to keep a diary of a sort, for the man folded so neatly around him, so their time wasn't lost to history. If he ever gave a thought to how short their actual time together was, he would never move from the bed, but he somehow managed it, because there was the question of tea. 

And... well, things had to be done.  
Things, what things? When did things or the doing of things become what we evolved into? 

He grumbled silently to himself as he rolled over just enough so he could feel Sherlock's warm breath waft over him gently; lanky arms, hands, fingers, legs, feet and toes - toes - his ridiculously long toes resettled around John again, somehow, without making him feel smothered. He recognized then that from the moment he understood what Sherlock meant to him, he had stopped thinking about what other people thought - about him, about them - because he knew he didn't have to think about what they were, how they were, they just were. He couldn't even form a question, or a thought, as to why they were, it was just a fact, like the solar system.

"Solar system again, John?"

"Hmmm?" John drew him improbably closer and felt more than heard the deep chuckle against his chest, and decided that tea could wait a bit longer.


End file.
